


Emergency Call

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Creeper Stiles, Crushes, Humor, Kidnapped Derek, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Technology, derek knows, derek's onto stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just type 'S.O.S.' and 'find my phone'," Stiles said. "Scott'll get it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emergency Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a challenge for card_fun as part of gameofcards on LJ in which we have to describe what's on a given character's phone.

"My phone is in my back pocket, can you reach it?" 

"Maybe."

Stiles sat still while Derek's seeking hands awkwardly touched around the floor until they touched Stiles' rear. He seemed to recoil for a second, then Stiles snorted, and Derek growled. He worked his fingers into Stiles' pocket and managed to pull out the phone.

Derek got it to the ground and Stiles twisted as best he could to see the screen as Derek strained his arms behind him to the right to press the button to get it on.

"Okay, are there bars to call out? Can you see?"

"Give me a second," Derek snapped, between gritted teeth.

Stiles watched as Derek managed to get the call screen up and pressed the button on his favorite contacts (Stiles wondered if Derek noticed he was on that list, along with his dad, Lydia, Malia and Kira). They both watched, muscles straining, as the phone tried and failed to connect over and over no matter how many times Derek poked at it.

"Okay, okay!" Stiles yelled after the last poke and he was worried Derek would push his finger right through the screen. "Why not a text? Try sending Scott a text. Sometimes there's data even when there's no phone signal."

"Shit," Derek muttered and Stiles quickly realized why. Derek's hands ere larger than his and he's been the recipient of Derek's properly-punctuated texts that, during a quick back and forth convo, take longer than usual to type out.

"Just type 'S.O.S.' and 'find my phone'," Stiles said. "Scott'll get it."

It took a few minutes but finally Derek managed to type out the message. He hit send and the message seemed to hover, suspended in data-jello.

Stiles cursed and wracked his brain. "Okay, okay! Try Snapchat!"

Derek grunted and poked at the screen again, opening something. 

"No, not the photos!" Stiles said quickly and felt his heart rate ratchet up.

"This isn't that Snap whatever?" Derek asked.

"No! It's the photo app!"

 "What's the difference?" Derek asked, flipping through the photos with little regard for Stiles' obvious distress.

"One is a pictures app and one is Snapchat!" Stiles yelled, wriggling against his binds.

 "Is this a picture of me? Are these all pictures of me?" Derek asked, going back and looking through Stiles' albums and finding a couple listed as "DH". He thumbed into them and started flipping through the pictures Stiles took on the sly over the past few months as Stiles strained against the ropes fruitlessly one last time, then slumped against the post they were tied up to.

"I'm so dead," Stiles muttered to himself, not caring anymore that Derek could obviously hear him.

"Why did you take all these?" Derek asked, however, and sounded curious.

Stiles shrugged.

"No, really. Why?" Derek pressed.

"'Cuziavacrushnyou," Stiles mumbled quickly.

"Sorry, what was that?" Derek asked and Stiles could picture him cocking his head with his eyebrows raised in that _way_ he did when he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Because I have a crush on you," Stiles said loudly. "Okay? You happy now?"

"Yup." Derek focused for a second, his claws grew and he sliced through the ropes holding both him and Stiles, then grabbed Stiles' phone and stood up. "The guys who kidnapped us aren't that smart. When we're done kicking their asses want to get some ice cream?"

Stiles sat on the floor, frozen with his mouth agape. Derek looked down at him, amusedly.

"How—why... what?" Derek reached down and pulled Stiles up to his feet.

"Did you really not think of me using my claws to get through the ropes? They weren't laced with wolfsbane so these idiots don't know I'm a werewolf. That never occurred to you?" 

Stiles hesitated. "Eh—no."

"Were you distracted?"

"Obviously," Stiles said sarcastically. "You've known all along, haven't you?"

"I'm a werewolf, Stiles, of course I did. So, ice cream?"

"If it means you like me, too, then yes." 

Derek rolled his eyes. "Grab that two-by-four over there and come on."


End file.
